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Friday, April 27, 2012

Three and Back Again: "We Had to Tear This Mothaf**ka Up"

‘There and Back Again’
is a series of articles in which I reflect on my upbringing in Lithonia,
Georgia and my eventual return to New York in the mid-1990’s.Much of it relates to Hip-Hop, and how I
truly discovered a culture that would eventually define my outlook on
life.This was my world from childhood
to adolescence.This series began as an
ongoing column on Planet
Ill.It now makes it official debut
on ‘Scottscope’ with this piece, written in memory of the 1992 Los Angeles
Uprising.

1992 was arguably the pinnacle of the Black consciousness
movement in Hip-Hop, as well as Black consciousness in popular culture.It was all downhill from there, at least from
my perspective.The fuse lit by groups
like Public Enemy and filmmakers like Spike Lee burned brightly for six years
before going Nova with the Los Angeles uprising and the film Malcolm X.I felt I was ready for the revolution back
then.During the latter half of my 9th
grade year at Tucker High school, Ice Cube’s sophomore album Death Certificate was my soundtrack, TheAutobiography
of Malcolm X my bible.

While my east
coast brethren were keeping me conscious, my west coast brethren were offering
war reports from ground zero.They wore
Jheri Curls, downed 40 ounce bottles of Malt Liquor and claimed affiliation
with various factions of the Bloods or Crips.They cursed a Hell of a lot more than New York rappers.They rarely, if ever, used the word “woman”
to refer to the opposite sex.In the
months between the Rodney King beating and the resulting riots, guys with names
like MC Eiht and Da Lench Mob told me everything I needed to know about life in
South Central, or so I thought.

In the middle of my 9th grade year, a new student
was admitted to my art class.I’ll call
him Jayo, in honor of the rapper Jayo Felony.I do this for two reasons.Like
Jayo, this new student was from San Diego, CA.Also like Jayo, he claimed affiliation with the Rolling 40’s Crips.He was tall, lanky, dark skinned, and wiry.He also wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and
was more than willing to deal with any repercussions that might follow.

One day in art class, our assignment was to draw logos and
banners.“Jayo” did one that read “Diego
40’s” in big crude block letters.Surrounding them on all sides was a series of hands, also crudely
rendered.The fingers on each were twisted
into weird configurations that resembled sign language.I didn’t know what gang signs were at the
time, so it didn’t register that he was using this particular assignment to “rep
his set.”Neither did our art teacher,
who gave Jayo a passing grade on that particular assignment.

Rapper Jayo Felony

Jayo had a huge, ugly knot on the bridge of his nose.He had another on the middle finger of his
right hand.They weren’t merely bumps,
but broken bones that had not been set to heal properly.Jayo said he got them while fighting and didn’t
bother going to the hospital afterward.He didn’t like hospitals much.He
liked cops even less.One day, after
observing that I had a talent for sketching, he asked me to draw him a picture of
a cop getting his brains blown out.When
I asked him why, he simply stated that he hated them.“If my father was a cop, I’d hate my father”
he said.He then told me a story about
being harassed by cops back in San Diego.

Most of the New York transplants at Tucker High thought that
L.A. gang culture was silly, and west coast gangsta rap unrealistic.Such attitudes rubbed “Jayo” raw.“Y’all just don’t understand what it’s like
out there” he’d say.He often did so
while furrowing his brow and shaking his head.When native Georgians made similar comments, his reaction was no
different.He also had a lighter side
though.He noticed my taste for Chicago
Bulls gear, the main colors of which were black and red.Red was, of course, is the color of the
Bloods. Whenever Jayo saw me wearing
Chicago Bulls apparel, he’d jokingly say “Nigga, what’s up with you and all
that red?I’m gonna start bringing my
gat to school!”He’d then call me a
slob, which is a derogatory term for Bloods gang members.

Like most NY transplants back then, Jayo felt a strong
connection with his hometown.I could
visibly see that his mood was different during the days that the L.A. uprising
unfolded.It seemed to confirm
everything that he had told me about the police, as well as everything the
music I’d been listening to had talked about.I heard through the grapevine that he beat the shit out of some kid
during gym class on one of those days.No teacher saw it, and the recipient of said beating was too scared to
rat him out.Knowing Jayo, this kid
probably made some snide remark about the riots, Rodney King, or gangs.

Unforgettable image from the Los Angeles uprising.

Me and Jay got along well because of our mutual love for Ice
Cube and Cypress Hill.Jayo also liked
the Native Tongues and Flavor Unit.He
was pretty universal with his tastes, though he shared NY Transplants disdain
for Miami Bass and ATL Bootyshake.Like
most native Georgians, he thought New Yorkers were assholes, yet he seemed to
like us anyway.We grew apart during my
10th grade year, at the end of which he graduated.He told me that instead of going to college,
he was going to enlist in the armed forces and become a “part-time G.I. Joe.”I saw him again shortly after Thanksgiving of
1993.He came by the school to visit
dressed in his class A Marine Corps uniform.He even seemed to stand different.I said what’s up to him.Though he seemed glad to see me, we kept the conversation
short.Over the years, I began to
realize that gangbangers don’t necessarily give up their affiliations when they
entered the armed forces.I never got to
find out if Jayo ever did.

Here we are in 2012, and the drama over Trayvon Martin’s
murder threatens to plunge the country right back into the same turmoil that
unfolded on April 29th of 1992.I remember how naïve and idealistic I was back then.I remember looking at all of the events that
unfolded in the context of what Cube and John Singleton and company had told me
life in Los Angeles was like.I now
realize that those guys were indeed prophets.I also now realize that there’s only so much that a song or movie can
tell you.I’ll
probably never know if Jayo was indeed a Rolling 40 Crip as he claimed, or if
he ever outgrew such nonsense.However,
he did teach me that the things that played as entertainment for me were real
life to some.I wonder if right now,
there’s a fifteen year old transplant from a major city who thinks that he
knows everything about Florida because he listens to Rick Ross.If the verdict in the Trayvon Martin trial
indeed incites a riot, I wonder how those events will shape his young
mind.The more things change, the more
they stay the same.

About Me

Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Scott Wilson, deep thinker and blogger extraordinaire. I'm also a published author and proud father. Last but certainly not least, I'm a single (IE Available), but I'm definitely looking to change that. My life is an ongoing work in progress, and I'm always looking to improve.